


Trapped by terror

by flightinflame



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Illusions, Night Terrors, Poor Charles, Pre-X-Men: Apocalypse (2016), Telepathy, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:41:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21635266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightinflame/pseuds/flightinflame
Summary: A little girl can't sleep, and the mansion burns.A little girl can't sleep, and a car crashes on a water-logged street.A little girl can't sleep, and ghosts walk the night.
Relationships: Jean Grey & Charles Xavier
Comments: 10
Kudos: 17
Collections: Secret Mutant Madness 2019





	Trapped by terror

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [widgenstain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/widgenstain/pseuds/widgenstain) in the [secret_mutant_madness_2019](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/secret_mutant_madness_2019) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Trapped in a telepath's nightmare. One of the telepaths is having nightmares and somehow people get trapped in them, be it on an astral plane or their actual bodies being transported somewhere else. Do they know where they are, or do they slowly learn through the eerie horrors they see?

The little girl couldn't sleep. Every night, she could see a car crash, playing over and over, hearing her parents crying out in pain, as the car twisted over and over, rotating through the air before it fell down onto the ground, shattered. It was so loud, so much, and she knew that it was her fault. She started to sob. She couldn't stop it. She started to scream, and she couldn't stop. The noise got louder and louder.

***

Charles was in agony. He opened his eyes, and saw that the room was aflame, fire licking across the ceiling. He could feel something pinning at his chest. He twisted as best as he could, gasping for air, and realised there was a strap across his chest. He fumbled with it, tearing it away, and sobbing in panic. He tried to scramble, but his wheelchair wasn't in reach. He could hear children screaming as well. He'd taught them all to get out if there was a fire, and he had to hope they'd get out, because somehow his wheelchair wasn't in the room. He wasn't getting out of here.

Mentally, he tried to scream at the other minds. There were so many of them here, so many children that had trusted him to keep them safe, and now they were going to die. 

He heard the door tear open, and then strong arms were wrapping around him. He pressed his face into fur thick with ash, and he was choking and sobbing.  
 _The children. Did the children get out. Hank? Hank_

There was a pause, before he felt Hank's thoughts reach towards him, thick with the mentality of the beast that was running through him. _Sent them out._

It wasn't much, but there was nothing he could do. He clung to Hank, gasping and choking as they made their way through the area, the air so full of smoke that he couldn't breathe. Hank snarled, clutching him tighter.

They stumbled through the corridors, but it was like a maze, and he could hear a woman screaming. 

Hank almost dropped him, as Sharon appeared from the smoke, a half drunk bottle of wine in her hand. She stared at him, snarling, and he tried to block her words. He could see other figures, a man he didn't recognise but which left Hank sobbing, his body sagging, and the flames were advancing, and he kept crying out, helpless and afraid. 

"Come on, Hank. You've got to do this." Charles pleaded, because he couldn't do it. He couldn't get them out of here, couldn't free them - he still didn't know why his chair wasn't in his room and there was nothing he could do. Hank turned a corner, and they were in an attic.

The fire hadn't reached here yet. Instead, rain was pouring through a hole in the roof, soaking the asphalt below. Hank slipped, and he could hear distant sirens closing in.

Hank looked at him, confused, and Charles nodded slowly. Something here wasn't right. He wasn't sure what, but... he tried to guide Hank to his feet, and the two of them walked along the road, Charles with his head back as the rain poured down, leaving him shivering.

He sobbed, and Hank looked down at him, as lost as he felt. There was a coldness that went beyond the rain that brushed his skin - he felt empty, and tired, and he wanted to curl up and disappear. Something in his mind told him that wouldn't be good, but he didn't know.

He could see steps in the distance. Not to somewhere he knew, not a house he'd been before, but it felt familiar. He walked ahead, holding Hank's hand, and the two of them climbed the steps until they reached the top, and his father opened the door, smiling at him and shaking his head and Charles knew, knew that it was time for testing and he was late, and he turned to run away but his legs crumpled under him, falling into the mud. 

He gasped for air, and Hank pulled him close, bringing their heads together. He looked up into Hank's eyes.  
 _None of this is real._ he shouted in Hank's mind. There was a pause, for a moment, before Hank nodded.

"I know!" Hank responded. "But I don't know... I don't know what we do about it."

Charles blinked, and shuddered at the figure he saw advancing, the cape splaying out in the breeze.

"Get us back inside the house."

"There's a fire-"

"It's not real. Inside the house. Hank, please," Charles begged, hoping he was right as Hank carried him towards the towering inferno He could see the wood peeling off the outside, turning to charcoal - but the house was brick. He knew it was brick. He could taste the smoke, and it had an oily residue to it, and the figure behind them was floating a car through the air.

Hank started to choke the second they were inside the house. Charles took control of Hank's body, forcing his friend to carry him towards the flame, believing as hard as he could that it wouldn't hurt. He led him through, until they reached the door of one of the children's bedrooms.   
_Jean?_ He called out, and there was no response, but he was sure. He reached out, his hand resting against the half-melted door handle, and pushed it open. 

It swung, and the room beyond was blackness. Only trust gave him the strength to walk onwards, towards the fragile broken body on the bed. It didn't look like she was breathing.

_Put me down Hank, then if the fires disappear get the children back inside. Hot chocolates all around. If you can find my wheelchair, bring it here, but I'll be able to wait._

His friend placed him down, and then hurried away, leaving Charles alone with what appeared to be a dead body. He reached out, and shook her shoulder.

***

Charles's arms wrapped around her, pulling her close, and she looked up at him, tears running down her face. 

He pulled her into his arms, pressing a kiss to her forehead, and cuddling her up against his chest.  
"It's okay Jean. It's okay. I'm here."

Held in his arms, the memories of the previous dream still shaking her, she sniffled, and curled up small.  
"It's safe," he promised, stroking her hair. "You're safe, I promise." He shushed her gently, and she closed her eyes. Charles's mind embraced hers, and she found herself slowly being soothed towards sleep. The fears receded, and she felt like she was slowly slipping into a warm bath.

No dreams came, and in the morning she could no longer remember her nightmares.


End file.
